


est-ce que tu m'aimes?

by poeticaid



Series: SaiMota Week 2018 [5]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Angst, Eating Disorders (referenced), Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Marriage Proposal (Kind Of), Post-Canon, Simulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-14 03:52:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16905606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poeticaid/pseuds/poeticaid
Summary: "Do you, like, uh, ever want to get married?""I don't think so." And the world stops spinning.Momota has a ring, has consulted his friends for this kind of things. But Saihara objects.Saimota Week Day 5: Postgame or Wedding: Both?





	est-ce que tu m'aimes?

**Author's Note:**

> another one!

Saihara's tapping causes Momota to wake up in a daze, to find his boyfriend already on his phone, texting someone else. Momota blinks. Saihara rarely uses his phone, due to his eyes slightly hurting from the radiation, and the memories they both buried with force. Saihara obviously lacks sleep, Momota can see those eye bags below his eyes, and how his eyelids were all ready starting to drop.

Momota sighs, and embraces Saihara gently, causing the other to nuzzle back to him for comfort and mumble out a deep sigh of affection. Momota catches sight of a drawer, a certain drawer in which he keeps all his secrets before he spills them himself. Momota can never be trusted for such information, and the rings is kept from Saihara's sights for a while.

They've been mending, stabilizing. They enter a relationship they both want to earn. Momota showers Saihara the love and affection he deserves from the game, while Saihara, meanwhile, would give Momota the strength he needs for another day.

"'M gonna go freshen up", Momota rumbles on Saihara's chest, and Saihara nods absently, his eyes still on his phone.

That was quite the normal response, minus the phone thing. Momota gets up, his skin burning and searing of pain due to letting go of Saihara; his warmth. He opens the door to their bedroom's bathroom, thoroughly observing what he sees in the mirror.

His hair was forever changing. Sometimes he would follow the trends in this discordant world, but most of the time, he reaches for razor blades and makes a habit of destroying his purple locks with it. Momota was now sporting long hair, tied to a lose ponytail. He wants to cut it so bad, but Saihara likes his hairstyle. So he was just clutching on, and, like Saihara, beyond repair.

He can see what the Team does for everyone. But they're not enough. The mirror starts to warp, bringing him back to those days in a mental hospital, not knowing nor saying anything, avoiding everyone, and never coming to terms with himself. Yet something in him had burnt with fiery moment and passion. As soon as Saihara had come to visit him, he could just feel tiny pinpricks gathering behind his eyes.

In all honesty, Momota was humiliated that Saihara had seen him in such a fragile and weak state. He vowed to never let that happen again, and try to be the stronger one of the two. Saihara needs protection, and Momota was there to grant it.

 _But who would protect him from himself?_ Momota looks at the scars on his arms, the times he had held a razor blade like a crown and starts to shear himself with it. He knows Saihara had hidden the razor blades, somewhere in secret, so that Momota would not try to hurt himself as much as he did. The last time he even saw the damn thing was a few weeks ago.

He washes his face with cold water-he has a slight distaste of washing his face with hot water- and dries it off with a towel. When he walks out of the bathroom, he finds the room completely empty, as if abandoned. He realizes that Saihara must now be cooking breakfast, and goes down the stairs to expectantly find him there. Saihara was turning the stove on, making sure the gas was quite all right for cooking.

Momota sets out for the door, the broken door, just as broken as them. The hinges and doorknob were rusted, and the paint was chipping off the old rotting wood. Sooner or later, they'd have to replace the door with something new.

Momota doesn't like the word _new_.

As he takes a step outside, he muses _Wow, what a lovely weather today is._ Because holy shit, the sun was shining on the edge of the dry lands, the winds making the tress whistle, the plants sway. It almost surprisingly doesn't look like winter had not taken them yet. Momota still loves the sky, its clouds that always float above him, the sun glowing radiantly, the blue hue of it; it was a good, perfect scenery for a marriage proposal.

He had talked to Harukawa and Shirogane a few days back, for advice, and they were not helpful with proposals and weddings and rings.

_"You're suggesting me hiring a megaphone and propose to Shuichi about this, who hates loud sounds due to the executions of the game?", Momota asked them both skeptically, now worried that his hot tea will not stay hot for long due to their dialogue heavy discussion._

_Harukawa, helpful as ever, looked at him with vague emotion. "Do you want to slip the ring in his drink in order to make Saihara choke?", she asks wryly._

It was a bad discussion, but he hopes that today, it was the day he will never forget, the happiest day in his and Saihara's life. He just hopes that life itself does not get any ideas to ruin his good mood for the day.

Momota walks into the house to see Saihara busily preparing plates and utensils for their breakfast. Momota, wanting Saihara concentrating on making their food. He takes the plates and distributes him-the two plates across each other, like a big date- and settles on the chair he had chosen to sit on.

After a few minutes, his beloved was done with cooking the breakfast, and sits opposite to him. Momota fawns over Saihara's imperfections, his imperial beauty, everything about him. But Saihara, for the last few weeks ever since that razor blade incident, had not been eating, and had only been uttering short words. Momota wonders if he had done something wrong, if he had triggered Saihara's eating disorder again.

And he still has not eaten for a few minutes, even after observing Saihara Shuichi and all he has. Saihara's pale skin, his bones protruding, becoming obvious for all he has. His eyes were always downcast, as if he was thinking about something in the past.

And Momota _hates_ looking back to the past, hates how he was so vulnerable, then fictional, then a psycho back then. He had remembered locking and entwining his fingers with Saihara when he could walk again, where he gets to see Saihara in all his glory, with that youthful, soft smile that makes Momota's heart beat every _single time_.

_The sun was radiant, but it was not as beautiful nor graceful as the sunset. The orange, read, yellow, and blue hues blend in so perfectly together, and stars poke out of the night sky. Momota was standing, and he thanked the God he never bealived in that he can walk again, with Saihara clinging close to him._

_"The sunset is beautiful, don't you agree, Shuichi?", Momota asked, looking at Saihara with some form of passion in his eyes, and Saihara responded with a nod, still staring to the ever brilliant scenery before him._

_Momota hated how Saihara, Harukawa and Yumeno had not been physically harmed, overlooked at by the producers. Though Momota had started to walk, he can only limp, not run, like he used to do. It was a sign of sickness, or something akin to how he had been sick in the game, and how he had slowly succumbed to it during his execution._

_He shuddered, but felt Saihara's arms wrapping into him tighter. He must have noticed the way he had moved._

_They stand idly, watching the sun set, and the beautiful sky turning to a deep black dotted with white stars._

"Shuichi, I have been meaning to ask you this", Momota says, snapping out of his thoughts and forcing himself to look at Saihara. Saihara looks up at him, and Momota's heart beats even faster.

"Yes?", Saihara replies, with a quizzical look on his face.

"Do you, like, uh, ever want to get married?" Momota sips in a glass of water as Saihara formulates an answer to his question. He was deep in thought, looking ahead of Momota, to something he can't see. And Saihara is back to the mortal world when he eats another spoonful of food.

"I don't think so." And the world stops spinning.

Momota thinks back to the box, where the ring was stored in, in the drawers. The kinds of ridiculous advice he had asked from their friends. The money he had spent on the ring. And every thought and scenario he ever had, about him finally proposing to Saihara, and them both living a happy life.

Is it going to go to crumbles, just because Saihara had told him the truth?

"Kaito, you've been hiding that ring for months now." And that snaps him out of his reverie, again, and he looks at Saihara, bewildered that he has found out that secret.

"How did you know?"

"You forget to close the drawer from time to time, Kaito." Saihara sighs, taking a bite out of his food. "Look, I know you want to get married. But not all married couples are happy. I appreciate spending money for me, but I feel... peaceful and serene, with the life I'm living now. Sure, we had some ups and downs, especially coping from... _you know_. I'm happy, truly happy."

Momota smiles at him, and Saihara smiles back. He feels the world spinning again, making them feel like they can spend an eternity together, not bound by matrimony.

Love, just love, could be enough.


End file.
